


Sailing Lessons

by toesohnoes



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-16
Updated: 2006-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond teaches Charlie how to sail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailing Lessons

"You know I _have_ been on a boat before," Charlie protested indignantly as Desmond led him towards the wheel.

Desmond grinned; of course Charlie had. Charlie seemed like the sort to have tried a little of everything, at least once. He'd heard he was a musician. He seemed like the sort for that too – impulsive, head-strong, lost in his own little world.

In a way, he reminded him of Penny. Too stubborn for his own good, and he knew how to hold a grudge. Desmond could see that every time Charlie glanced at Locke. It was interesting; he'd like to know the back story there, but it seemed that Charlie didn't feel like telling him about it.

Fair enough. Desmond wasn't going to push. Not yet. They were trapped on a bloody desert island – he had all the time in the world to find out about all of this back story.

In the meantime, there was this sailboat – retrieved from the Others, along with Jack, Kate and Sawyer – and they wanted to set sail in under a week. However, with Sayid staying behind and Sun refusing to let Jin go, they were out of experienced sailors.

Desmond had been happy to offer to help; he didn't have a lot else to do, and he knew it was going to work this time. He could _see_ it, in the same way he could see so much else these days – from future speeches to lightning bolts.

And to him and Charlie at this wheel. He'd seen that little one last night, and had woken up hard. He hadn't had sex with anyone, male or female, since he'd landed on this godforsaken island. While he knew that Penny was still out there somewhere, waiting on him – she _had_ to be – that many years was a long time to go without any form of human contact. He'd thought he was going crazy before his box man showed up in the hatch.

He walked behind Charlie as they headed to the front of the boat, bobbing lightly with the sea as he carried on with today's 'lesson'. "I know," he said, just to placate Charlie. He didn't want a rant from the only other Brit on the island. They had to stick together, didn't they?

Close together.

"It's just like driving a car; you can do that, can't you?" He smiled as he said it, able to watch Charlie bristling and getting pissed off.

" _Yes_. Of course I can drive a bloody car," Charlie snapped. Desmond stayed smiling, and allowed Charlie to take the wheel. He'd already taught him how to use the sails.

"Go ahead then, brother." Desmond gestured graciously towards the wheel. Charlie glared at him, and moved forwards, grabbing it impulsively.

Maybe he wasn't like Penny, then. She was too safe, too clever, too prepared to jump into anything head-first.

"Whoa." He grabbed onto the nearby railing as Charlie tugged the wheel to the side at random – the boat jerked and Desmond had to suddenly wonder if Charlie had been lying; _could_ he drive a car? Didn't seem like it. "Take it easy, Charlie. You don't need to be so rough with her."

Charlie glanced over his shoulder at him. The sun caught him perfectly, glinting around his hair – fallen angel, Desmond thought, but then Charlie moved and the effect was lost. Pity, Desmond thought with a sigh. He'd looked nice like that.

"Fine. How should I be with 'her' then, if you're the sodding expert?"

"I _am_ the 'sodding expert'. I was sailing around the world."

"Yeah? And you crash landed on a desert island. That won't look too good on your CV, mate," Charlie grouched, and then he was frowning and focusing on steering again.

Desmond smiled and moved behind him. He positioned his arms around Charlie, hands on top of his on the wheel – and he felt Charlie tense, just for a moment, as he felt Desmond's erection pressed against him. "I suppose you're right. Maybe I shouldn't be boasting about my sailing experience?"

"Maybe not," Charlie agreed, but he sounded distracted. Desmond smiled to himself, mouth close to Charlie's ear.

"But unless you want Sayid out here teaching you, maybe you should just make do with what you've got. I promise: I'm not as bad as that CV of mine makes out." He felt Charlie laugh, under his breath, against him, and moved just an inch closer. When Charlie was safely nestled against him, hemmed in by his arms on the wheel, Desmond dipped his head closer – enough to allow his lips to brush over Charlie's earlobe when he talked.

"Like I was saying before you interrupted – you've got to be gentle." He dropped his voice to a whisper, felt Charlie shivering against him. On the wheel, he moved their hands just slightly, just enough to turn the wheel, to alter their course a tiny amount.

"If you rush, you lose track of where you are; you lose control." He was tempted to tug the wheel right to the side again, just to add to this little demonstration, but losing his balance wouldn't help with the Great Seduction.

Said seduction seemed to be going fairly well, seeing as Charlie was leaning back against him, and his eyes flickered closed for a second. Well, couldn't be having that. If his eyes were closed, then he wasn't paying attention. Desmond scraped his teeth over that ear lobe, hard enough to get Charlie to snap his eyes open in surprise. "You wouldn't want to lose control now, would you?"

"What?"

"The wheel. We don't want to lose control of it." Desmond tried not to laugh, which was easy enough. He was mostly just revelling in the warm heat of another body against his, the split-second taste of Charlie's skin in his mouth.

"Right. 'course not. Wheel control is good. We're a fan of it. Complete and utter fan. Wish I was a wheel."

Desmond mostly just ignored the words, taking only a little pleasure in the fact that he could drive Charlie to talking nonsense. Then again, from what Desmond could see, it didn't take much to prompt him into a rambling fit. Hands still on the wheel guiding them, over Charlie's, Desmond's attention moved from his ear to his neck.

Claire's on shore – he wondered if she could see them. They weren't that far out; part of him hoped that she could. It'd be another wedge to drive between those two. Once again, all that Desmond has to rely on is whispered gossip, but it sounded to him like they were already on the brink of cracking apart.

One little push – if watching your unofficial boyfriend on a boat with another man can be classified as 'little' – would all it would take.

And yet he wanted to protect Charlie from that, so he glanced behind him. "Come on – I'll show you the cabin."

He moved away from the wheel but kept Charlie's hand, pulling it with him. Charlie followed, swaying slightly as he wasn't used to being out on the sea. Desmond supposed that he wasn't either; it had been too long. His dream of racing around the world, of proving himself to be someone special, had long since vanished over the horizon.

Now there was just him, just this boat, just this man, just this moment. The cabin seemed darker than usual as he descended into it. He hoped darker might translate to more intimate, but it just made him clumsy – he nearly tripped down the stairs. Judging from the clatter and the steadying hand on his shoulder and the quiet curse, Charlie nearly did too.

He reached the heart of the cabin, the area around them too small to move properly in, and turned around – turned around to place his hands on either side of Charlie’s face and kiss him.

And it wasn’t like kissing Penny. And it wasn’t like how he _imagined_ kissing Charlie would be.

But it was real and it was human and it was contact, and that was nearly enough.

So nearly.

With the sea jolting the boat beneath them, Desmond’s hands trailed down – firm chest, no bust, not Penny – until they landed on Charlie’s waist and pushed; pushed him back until the wall stopped their movement. It just took a step.

Charlie’s legs moved up and wrapped around his waist, holding him close. Desmond broke that non-Penny kiss to thrust his hips against him, even though they were still clothed and he wasn’t sure what he’d ever planned on doing once they were down here and hidden from sight.

Charlie didn’t seem to might, panting and moving his hips to grind back against Desmond; little shivers had already started down his spine, and it seemed clear to Desmond that Charlie had done this before – enclosed spaces, held up against a wall, two erections to deal with instead of just one. Maybe he’ll get him to tell him the story, one day.

“Thought you were straight,” Charlie said, breathless and hoarse.

Desmond smiled, lips brushing against Charlie’s again. The action was gentle, the complete opposite of their harshly clashing bodies, wrestling closer to climax. There was a bed over by the opposite wall, he realised too late. He could’ve just taken Charlie there.

“Would’ve said the same about you,” he replied, and he was surprised to find that he was lying. Lying itself was unusual for him – he’d made a habit out of telling the truth, regardless of how odd it was, since landing on this island – but he’d _known_ about Charlie. He had been able to see it on his face, in his actions.

Well, these actions right now were fairly conclusive, Desmond supposed with a grin. He tossed his head back in an attempt to get his hair out of his face; he had to remember to tie it back when he planned on having sex. He wasn’t used to getting laid with it long.

Then Charlie’s hand threaded through his hair, tugged at it, fisted it. Desmond decided he liked it this length, and he wouldn’t let anyone brandishing a pair of scissors near him for a long while yet.

And god he was so close, Charlie so near, and despite the way the boat rocked and jerked around them it felt like he was back home again, back to before his race, before this island, before this world.

 _See you in another life, brother._

He lost track of where he was and who he was and that was just perfect. He didn’t have to be Desmond, the weird guy from the hatch. He could be Desmond, the weird guy from prison. Or Desmond, the weird guy who runs a lot. Or Desmond, the weird guy with the bassist from Driveshaft.

Whatever happened, it seemed that he was destined to be categorised as ‘the weird guy’.

Charlie’s teeth nipped sharply at his lips and all of his thoughts went spiralling into the distance, across the sea and to mainland again. He didn’t miss them.

He lost himself in this instead, in ‘teaching Charlie to sail’, in the violent thrust of their bodies and gentle rocking of their boat – in the sea-salt taste of Charlie’s skin, those quiet little grunts and the expert way that he knows just how to tilt his hips.

When he came, it was with a nameless groan – no Penny, no Charlie – and his hands tightening on Charlie’s hips. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. He thought it might be. He wanted fireworks and cymbal crashes; instead, he got _just_ enough to keep him going, but he knew that he’d need another session like this at some point in the future.

He closed his eyes and shuddered, still moving, still getting Charlie off. Desmond liked to think himself a considerate lover – taking what he needed then leaving seemed rude. So he moved and smiled, smugly, when Charlie stiffened and jerked underneath him.

It was only when he pulled back that he started to notice the wet stain on his trousers, and remembered that he hated the feel of wet material. There was a reason why only horny teenagers weren’t supposed to be able hold on until they got rid of their clothes.

Sighing, he glanced over to Charlie’s dazed, pretty face. “We’d better get back out there – I’ve still got a lot to teach you,” he said, and he couldn’t stop the smirk on his face when he saw how confused Charlie looked. He nodded to himself: they still needed a _lot_ more sailing lessons.


End file.
